


Sugar We're Going Down

by tomlisnons



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Clothing Kink, M/M, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Prompt Fic, according to the tags, hat fic, that's not a thing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-14
Updated: 2013-04-14
Packaged: 2017-12-08 12:06:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/761126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tomlisnons/pseuds/tomlisnons
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And it wasn't a thing for Louis – except it kind of was – how Harry's hair flipped out under the brim and the messy strands that would escape over his forehead from the hole above the snaps, how Louis could see his entire face with his hair pushed back and his gorgeous skin and bright eyes and it made Louis want to kiss him; made him want to knock the hat right off his head and fist his hands in Harry’s hair and make him messy.</p><p>or the one where harry rides louis while wearing a snapback</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sugar We're Going Down

**Author's Note:**

> for [this](http://larrystylinsmut.tumblr.com/post/46630922030) prompt, but also [this](http://25.media.tumblr.com/701f00db7fa2a7e93ad40792c71aa731/tumblr_ml5jftgRd01rqv2jbo1_500.png) and [this](http://25.media.tumblr.com/2e3c4eead55d6725316dce9b567f413e/tumblr_ming0bVZ5c1rko18bo1_500.png)
> 
> this was supposed to be just hat!kink but i've realized i can't write anything that doesn't have subbysubsub!harry so yeah there's a bit of that too
> 
> and thank you to zmalikd/riversniall for the beta even though larry's not her thing

“Lou, I’m home,” he hears Harry call, and the click of the door behind him. 

“Kitchen,” he says back, and is polishing off his toast when Harry appears in the doorway, baggy sweater and Levis and a cap, twisted so that it’s just a bit off-kilter.

He brandishes the Tesco’s bag with a bashful smile and gives Louis a quick kiss. “I got bacon and stuff.”

“I was wondering where you had gone off to,” Louis tells him and pulls out the plastic package from the bag, tossing it on the counter and grabbing a pan from the cupboard.

“You gonna make it then?” Harry asks, coming up behind him as he slices a line down the side of the package and pulls back the plastic.

“That is a disaster waiting to happen,” he says, taking out a few strips. “You’re going to make it.” The brim of Harry’s cap bumps against the back of his head.

“Am I?”

Louis turns around and clasps his hands behind Harry’s back. “Don’t be difficult, Harold.”

“That’s not even my name!”

Louis shrugs and twists Harry’s hat around, so that he’s not in direct danger of getting impaled by the brim. Harry makes a face and pulls it off, shaking his hair out before setting it back down.

And it wasn't a thing for Louis—except it kind of was—how Harry's hair flipped out under the brim and the messy strands that would escape over his forehead from the hole above the snaps, how Louis could see his entire face with his hair pushed back and his gorgeous skin and bright eyes and it made Louis want to kiss him; made him want to knock the hat right off his head and fist his hands in Harry’s hair and make him messy.

“Lou?” Harry asks, but his voice is a bit thick now.

“Haz.”

“What’re you looking at?”

Louis is looking at him and he’s so hot Louis doesn’t even know what to do. He wants to blow him and have Harry blow him too and finger him and kiss him everywhere and just take him right here on the kitchen floor and break him into a thousand pieces and then put them all back together because he’s memorized where all the bits fit and he just—he just has to kiss him.

So he does, and Harry’s hands come up to his cheeks, fingertips digging into the back of Louis’ neck when Louis bites his lip and Harry growls and shoves him back, so that the stovetop digs into Louis’ lower back. Louis pushes back roughly, dragging their tongues together and gripping Harry’s forearms.

“Lou,” Harry says, still kissing him so it’s muffled and awkward.

“You wear those fucking—hats,” Louis gasps, pulling away and letting Harry work on his neck, biting and sucking lovebites into the tender skin. “And they’re so hot, Hazza, turn me on so much.”

“Yeah?” Harry growls into his collar, fitting their hips into alignment. 

“Oh, yeah,” Louis breathes, and he doesn’t even care that he sounds so out of breath even though they’ve only been kissing for about ten seconds.

“Does it make you want to fuck me?” Harry asks, and then Louis’ mouth is too busy occupying Harry’s to respond. Harry’s hands are moving down to bracket Louis’ hips and he’s grinding into him, the hard line of his cock pressing into Louis’ stomach and Louis just wants.

“Does it?” he demands and Louis pulls at the hair at the nape of Harry’s neck, his mouth moving over Harry’s jaw and collarbones.

“Yes, God—” He gets cut off again when Harry forces their mouths back together, licking into Louis’ and tasting the backs of his teeth, the roof of his mouth.

They keep kissing, pushing and pulling against each other, taking as much as they’re giving and losing their breath. Louis kind of wants to fuck Harry, shatter him and fuck the hat right off his head, but he also kind of wants Harry to blow him in his hat and he honestly can’t decide which he wants more and he doesn’t think he’ll be able to last long enough for both with how hard he already is in his pants. He could probably rut off on Harry’s thigh and come.

“I want—I, can you—” His coherency could really use some work. Harry’s back to working on his neck, and how is he meant to think proper thoughts with the slickness of Harry’s tongue soothing the blooming bruises on his skin?

“What do you want, Lou? Anything,” Harry says, and Louis' cock gives an approving throb.

“Your—your mouth, Harry,” Louis gasps, his head falling back to give Harry all the room he needs. “Want you to suck me.”

“Yes,” Harry hisses, and within one second and the next he’s on his knees, the force of his weight hitting the floor, rattling the plates inside the cupboards. Louis has half a mind to make a disapproving sound in the back of his throat, because last time Harry did that he couldn’t walk the next day and whined for hours about it.

Harry’s nuzzling him through the fabric of his trousers, mouthing at the zip and licking the denim. 

“Always been cockhungry, haven’t you, Hazza?” Louis mumbles as Harry tries to open the button with his teeth, both his hands working at his own jeans to get at himself.

“For you, Lou, anything for you.” He’s managed to get the button open and the fly down and Louis pets at his neck and the curls escaping around his ears in praise, making soft cooing noises at him because Harry has always loved to hear him, always likes to know that he’s doing a good job.

Now he’s mouthing at the wet spot in Louis’ pants, where the tip of his cock is leaking precome and seeping through the fabric, and Harry's tongue is only making the spot bigger, darker.

“Harry,” Louis begs, because no matter how desperate he gets, he’s always a massive tease and right now Louis is so not up for that.

“Louis,” Harry breathes, and then he’s pulling the band of his pants down and tucking it under Louis’ balls, so that he has access to everything important.

He just stares at Louis' cock for a minute, and Louis watches his eyes and the bright flush in his cheeks and his hands in his own trousers. His eyes have gone dark, or maybe it’s his pupils blown so wide his eyes just seem darker, but it makes Louis’ cock burble out a bead of precome, and Louis watches Harry watch it drip down the side of his cock, til it’s just about to fall to his pants, and then Harry runs the flat of his tongue up the side of Louis’ cock, following the path of the precome and then sucking Louis’ cockhead into his mouth.

Louis keens, high in his throat, and knots his fingers in the hair at the back of Harry's neck, making sure to keep the hat where it is. There are strands of hair escaping everywhere; the hole above the snaps, behind his ears, at his temples, and they’re all plastered to his forehead and neck with sweat. 

Louis brushes his hands over Harry’s cheeks, pushing all of the hair out of his face. Harry’s eyes glint up at him, and Louis’ knuckles brush against the brim of the cap as he pushes Harry down further, feeling his throat tighten around the tip of his cock and a wet sound emanating from him. Louis groans and Harry’s nose brushes against his stomach.

“Harry,” he grunts, and Harry’s hands come out of his trousers to grip the back of his thighs, his fingernails digging into the flesh of Louis’ bum and keeping Louis’ cock deep.

“I’m gonna—” Louis tries, but then another gagging noise comes from Harry and he comes, shooting into Harry’s mouth as Harry uses his hand to work him through it. Louis shirt is stuck to his back with sweat and his legs are shaking as Harry slowly rises up and kisses him deep.

“You’re going to fuck me now,” Harry says roughly, and Louis’ cock gives an overstimulated twitch.

Louis tries to nod but his brain is still a bit fuzzy and Harry’s still wearing that damn hat and his legs are shaking and fuck, when did orgasms take this much out of him?

He feels Harry’s hard cock brush against his stomach as Harry noses at the hinge of his jaw and that snaps him out of it. He reaches down and curls a fist around Harry’s dick and gives him a few tugs, the steady stream of precome slicking his way.

“Lou,” Harry whines, thrusting into the circle of his hand, and Louis nods against his shoulder and they stumble up the stairs together, bumping into the walls and the banister and the door frame before finally tumbling onto the bed.

“We’re moving into a bungalow,” Louis growls, and Harry barks out a laugh, but is quickly silenced when Louis wraps his fingers around his dick again.

“Get the lube,” he says, but when Harry doesn’t immediately reach for it, he makes a sound and uses his other hand to push Harry’s heavy torso off of him and scrambles around in their drawer for the small bottle of KY. It’s almost empty, he notices. He’ll have to get some more later.

Harry whines and thrusts his hips up, and Louis realizes that he isn’t moving his hand anymore. He smirks and flips them over so that Harry is on his back and Louis is on his knees between his splayed thighs. He reaches up and presses the hat down, settling it properly on Harry’s head and Harry’s head falls back.

“Lou—Louis, please,” he whines, and Louis kisses his mouth, popping the cap on the lube and slicking three of his fingers. He presses one to Harry’s rim, Harry’s whole body going tight for a second before going slack as the tip slips in.

“Go, Louis, Jesus,” he grunts, pressing his hips down so that Louis’ finger is in all the way, and he begins working it in and out slowly. Harry whines and his head falls back, exposing his throat, which Louis immediately goes for, leaning down over Harry’s body to begin biting marks into his skin, moving down to get at his swallow tattoos and the 17BLACK on his shoulder.

“I still can’t believe you got a fucking ship,” Louis says lowly against Harry’s arm, digging his teeth into the black lines of the masts. “Who even does that?” He presses a second finger in alongside the first, which is probably the only reason Harry didn’t have any witty retort about one of Louis’ tattoos.

“You,” Harry breathes. “You got a bird on your arm.” Louis twists his fingers and Harry’s hips jerk violently. “Who does that?”

Louis’ cock is rock solid, still trapped in his pants, but he’s having too much fun playing with Harry to really pay much attention to it. “Harry, what have I told you about teasing the person whose fingers are inside you?” Louis twists his hand cruelly to make his point, and Harry yelps and moans.

“What have I,” Harry pants, “told you about—making fun of my—tattoos?” The fact that he’s nearly breathless doesn’t really do much to make him seem imposing, and Louis grins, dark and filthy, and moves back up to kiss him, sucking on his lip.

“You do it to yourself,” Louis says around Harry’s tongue, and tucks a third finger in. “The only reason I haven’t given you a complete break down of all of them is because you’re wearing that damn hat and I just want to be inside you.”

“Lou,” he chokes, and he arches up to get Louis’ fingers deeper, bearing down and riding them. “You can—go, it’s—I’m good now.”

“No you’re not,” Louis says quietly, and pecks Harry’s lips repeatedly, little kisses that are just brushes of lip on lip, to satiate his need but so that he can focus on his fingers and prepping Harry right. No matter how turned on he is, he’d never risk hurting Harry.

“I am, Louis—promise,” he says, and Louis knows that he’s lying, but he’s almost there, and Louis is starting to feel like his dick might fall off if he doesn’t get it in something.

“Come on,” Harry begs, his breath barely a whisper in the air. He looks so wrecked that Louis can’t even drag this out any longer. “Please, Lou—please, please, please—”

Louis cuts him off with another kiss, pulling his fingers out and wiping them on the sheets, Harry making a face at the wet patch they leave.  
“Ride me,” he says into Harry’s mouth, and Harry is only too happy to comply, flipping them over with the impatience only someone who’s just about to get fucked has. Louis grins at him as Harry slicks his cock.

“Fix your hat,” Louis orders, rubbing a hand over his length to make sure he’s wet enough. The firm pressure of his fist makes his hips buck upwards, seeking more, but then Harry’s straddling him and with one hand on Louis’ chest and the other behind his back, he guides Louis in. He’s hothothot and it’s taking everything Louis has not to just fuck up into him. It’s always a lot for Harry to take when he’s on top, because of the change in angle, and it takes a few moments longer than usual for him to get situated.  
Louis tries to be patient.

“Alright, sweetheart?” he grunts when Harry’s down on him. He’s just sitting there, both hands on Louis’ chest and his nails dug in, making red crescents on his skin, face scrunched up and heaving chest and bitten lips.

“Bit sore, from—last night,” he says, and reaches his hands up to grip the top of their headboard, rocking his hips experimentally. Louis whimpers, and Harry smiles, eyes still shut.

“Haz you look so—hot, so ridiculously hot in that hat,” Louis says, and Harry’s head falls back, mouth open around a silent moan. “You look like a fucking college kid, I swear, and you—” Harry flexes around Louis’ cock and Louis cuts off with a high-pitched moan of appreciation. “And when you—when you wear tank tops, I don’t even—I can’t even deal with myself sometimes, you look so good.”

“Lou,” he whines, and begins to rock, his hips rolling up and then back down, slowly making a pace for himself. Louis’ hands move from where he holds fistfuls of the sheets to Harry’s hips, nails digging in so tight Louis is almost positive he’s drawing blood, but Harry’s so focused on what he’s doing that he probably doesn’t even notice the pain.

“I always picture you on your knees for me,” Louis says, as conversationally as he can, but he doesn’t think he sounds very convincing because his voice sounds tiny and hoarse to even his own ears. He doesn’t think Harry’s even registering what he’s saying, though, singularly focused on the feel of Louis’ cock in him and the steady hum of Louis’ voice. “Think about you sucking me with your hat on, just like in the kitchen. You’re such a good boy, Hazza.”

At this, Harry makes a whining noise and curves down, tucking his face into the crook of Louis’ neck and panting against his skin, biceps against either side of Louis’ head where he’s still gripping the headboard with white knuckles. The plastic snaps of his hat are brushing against Louis’ jaw and Louis’ fingers are still gripping bruisingly hard to Harry’s hips and the whole room is hot and damp, smelling of sweat and sex and Harry’s cologne, from where he broke a bottle of it the other week. The scent still hasn’t completely left the carpet.

Louis looks down and sees Harry’s cock, angry red, almost purple at the tip, and pressed up against his stomach, the tip shiny with precome. Louis moves his hand and wraps it around Harry’s dick, Harry actually sobbing, his mouth open so that his teeth dig harshly into Louis’ neck.

“Haz, Hazza,” Louis says lowly, still working his hand, feeling his second orgasm curling in his belly but not wanting to come til Harry does.  
“Harry, look at me.”

Harry slowly lifts his head and looks down at Louis, his hips still working, chest still heaving.

“Almost there?” Louis asks.

Harry swallows, and Louis watches his Adam’s apple bob. “Y—yeah, so close,” he whispers, and it seems to break him out of whatever trance he was in, because he sits up and straightens his back, stretching out his neck and showing the long lines of his body to Louis; the stretch of his V-lines, the pale skin of his torso, the shallow indents of his abs, the deep cuts of his collarbones. He reaches a hand up from the headboard and pulls off the hat, shaking out his hair the way that makes Louis whine (which he does) and grins down at Louis when he fits it back down. 

Louis’ hand is still working and his toes are curling because he can feel his orgasm just there and he’s slick with sweat and Harry’s fucking killing him, he’s so ridiculously hot and he knows it, he’s such a shit head, but Louis just—can’t.

Harry’s bouncing, the escaped curls from his hat stuck to his skin, and there’s the hint of a grin curling his lips. “Ready, Lou?” he says, and then he chokes again, his cock pulsing in Louis’ fist and he’s coming, streaking white between both of their chests as he shudders and moans. 

He’s clenched so tight around Louis’ cock that he comes almost right after Harry does, back arching up off the bed as Harry continues to smirk at him, Louis’ come filling him up in hot pulses.

When they’re both finished, Harry collapses on Louis, panting and shaking, arms wrapped around Louis’ shoulders and cock still inside.

“If I knew that hats got you so worked up, I’d wear them more often,” Harry mumbles into Louis’ skin.

Louis rolls his eyes. “You did know.”

Harry pulls back, eyes heavy-lidded and pink. He grins and kisses Louis deep. “You’re right.”

+

**Author's Note:**

> yeah sorry
> 
> i have [tumblr](http://tylerposei.tumblr.com)


End file.
